


Whose Fantasy Is It Anyway?

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, And possibly also Judi Dench, Author is a deviant, But she is in this, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Dry Humping, Except for when God calls Crowley Raphael and it's a bit sad, God Is Love, God as Headmistress, Hey I can dream, Humour, Light BDSM, M/M, Mummy loves you, Naughty school boys, School Uniforms, Sexual Fantasy, light hearted, no minors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 00:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19779109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: God summons Crowley and Aziraphale a few weeks after the not-apocalypse for punishment, creating an old fashioned school discipline setting to make it easier for Her wayward earthbound angels. Could absolution be on the cards? And what would they do afterwards?





	Whose Fantasy Is It Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a video where Michael Sheen talks about how he would have been tugged by the ear to the headmaster's office if he was facetious about being late at school. My brain exploded.

A month had passed. They were both happily enjoying life, wine, and books, plus their newfound physical love for one another. So much so, they didn't notice a circle of light appear in the bookshop, as they were so engrossed in an indecent French kiss in the occult section following an early lunch at the Ritz.

'Aziraphale!' God's voice rang out and the two lovers jolted apart in fright. The voice came again. 'Demon Crowley. Both of you attend me. Now.'

'Fuck,' said Aziraphale for the second time, convinced now that he only swore very badly when a light blue circle was involved.

'I heard that,' scolded God. 'Quickly now.'

Crowley solemnly took Aziraphale's hand and they stepped into the circle together.

* * *

There was a faint tinkle of a bell and instantly they were standing in an old fashioned office, decked out in rich mahogany. 

Something felt new, physically. They looked down at their clothes. They were both wearing the same school uniform - thin grey trousers and dark grey blazers. The school logo was embossed on their blazers, but with a bright green trim for Crowley and a golden yellow trim for Aziraphale. 

‘Uh oh,’ said Aziraphale, hands twisting. ‘I think we’re in a… headmaster’s study.’

‘Headmistress,’ came the imperial tone that made them both jump. God walked in, a human woman shape of around 55 years, dressed tartly in a pencil skirt and modest blouse. ‘Fuck the patriarchy,’ she added pleasantly. 

The schoolboys instinctively stood to attention, hands clasped behind their backs. 

God went to her chair and sat down, peering at the boys over her spectacles. 

‘I thought this might be the best symbolic representation for administering discipline, given your long service on Earth,’ she explained. 

‘Yes lord,’ they said in meek chorus.

She took a deep breath and sighed a heavy sigh. ‘You have been naughty boys, haven’t you?’

She made eye contact with Aziraphale, who was trying not to be tearful.

‘My soft Angel of the Eastern Gate, running temptations for Hell?’ Aziraphale was clasping his hands together so tightly he cracked a finger. 

‘I only gave him the mild ones!’ said Crowley quickly.

‘Hush,’ came the lulling command. She fixed the demon with a glare. 

‘My wilful child, healer of humanity, who would not awake to his own light and power unless I revealed it to him by expulsion to somewhere he could only shine and grow. And look what you did.’

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. ‘So it’s true! He did the good thing and I did the bad thing. Oh no!’

She gave a half smile. ‘You have both been disobedient. You have both lied continuously. You have both gone against exactly what was set out for you, and sneaked around meeting each other to deceive both sides, when you know full well you shouldn’t have been working together. And when you were to be punished, you escaped your sentences by performing a quite forbidden miracle.'

She knew about that, then. This was going to be _bad._

'You won't get away with that again. You have broken all the rules and created your own game plan so you can continue to cavort and indulge. Now you must be corrected.’ 

Aziraphale clenched everything this time, suddenly conscious of drinking a lot of tea that morning and feeling an internal pressure build like a grumbling geyser. Crowley just huffed. 

‘Do you agree?’ she prompted sternly.

‘Yes lord,’ they chanted in unison, somewhat miserably.

God miracled a wooden cane, in keeping with the entire theme of the setting. 

‘Both of you bend over the desk, palms down.’ 

Aziraphale and Crowley gulped at each other but obediently bent over the desk. The air filled with their nervous breath.

She stood and moved to stand behind them. A steady scolding commenced. 

‘You lied to me, Aziraphale, about the sword I gave you. You knew you shouldn’t give it to the mortals, yet you did.’

The angel tensed, expecting a thwack. None came. 

‘And Raphael,’ said God, gently touching the demon’s shoulder, did you really think you were the one doing the tempting? Did it not occur to you that you were being tempted?’ 

‘ _Psycho_ ,’ mumbled Crowley. 

God gave him a gentle swat on the leg with her hand. ‘Careful,’ she warned. 

A moment of quiet ensued. Aziraphale bit his lip, waiting for the sound of the cane to whistle through the air. Again, there was no sound. His stomach was in a knot, his heart pounding in his mouth. The waiting was killing him, and he started to think he was either going to burst into tears or fully wet himself if he had to sustain this nervous tension any longer. 

He glanced at Crowley, who was watching him with deep concern.

‘It’s okay,’ whispered the demon soothingly. ' _It's okay_.' 

Behind them, God smiled, and outside the window, the sun came out from behind a cloud. Crowley moved his hand slightly so his little finger was resting on Aziraphale's. 

God smiled more. Her voice cut through the moment. ‘All this time, the two of you have been meddling constantly, despite what you were told. And that is why you are here.’

Aziraphale abruptly stood up straight. ‘It’s not fair!’ he shouted, slapping the desk like an angry bank manager.

Crowley gasped in panic. ‘Aziraphale, _don’t_!’ 

But the angel needed his outburst. ‘Why destroy the world in a stupid war?! Why teach them such a harsh lesson and murder innocent beasts?! Why end this beautiful earth all for some stupid point scoring and snide judgmental exercise in moral fibre when no one else has even seen the rulebook!’

‘Why indeed,’ God answered kindly. She applied a little pressure to Aziraphale’s back, encouraging him to bend back over the desk. He yielded, breath trembling. She applied the same gentle swat on the leg she’d given to Crowley. 

‘Everyone has a rulebook written inside them,’ she said. ‘You knew the head office rules and you had your orders. But you both felt that there was something far greater than that. You saw the light in my creation, and decided it was worth preserving no matter what happened to you.’ 

The angel was still wound up. ‘If you’re telling me that all of this has been some sort of Free Will reality show, then…’

‘ _Aziraphale…_ ’ hissed Crowley. 

The angel buttoned it. If a fallen angel was warning him he was going to far he should probably listen. 

‘Listen to that, Aziraphale,’ said God, in a chocolaty tone. ‘Your demon, trying to protect you. Have you ever heard anything so beautiful? He’s scared for you.’

‘Because you tortured him!’ complained Aziraphale. 

‘I gave him the insight and the hard-earned empathy he needed to be equipped with, to be exactly who he is in the best possible way.’

‘Oh of course,’ sneered Aziraphale, legs shaking. ‘I’m sure it’s all character building at the end of the day.’ 

Crowley's mouth fell open in horror. He knew from experience you don't talk back to God like that.

‘Aziraphale,’ she warned darkly. ‘Why’s my bright principality become so insolent? You used to be such a good boy.’

Aziraphale quickly lost his nerve, which was exactly when Crowley found it.

‘He’s worth a hell of a lot more than just carrying out orders, and he knows it!’ spat Crowley.

The Almighty came and stood directly behind Crowley, and he braced himself for what he assumed would be the first blow of the cane. Aziraphale tensed with him.

Again, no blow came. 

‘Precisely my point,’ said God softly. ‘You have both discovered your purest selves, which may surprise you as being exactly not pure. For you cannot have purity without impurity. It is in learning how the two mix that we gain wisdom, and it is in choosing what to do with that wisdom that you know Me.’

They both frowned at the desk. This was going somewhere else. They heard her walk towards the window, and her voice carried beyond it.

‘As for humanity, until they learn that the authority is within them to exercise will and wisdom, compassion and love, they will suffer. Until they stand up and accept that responsibility, they will never know power nor grace. Until they understand the interconnection of all living things, they will feel alone and wary of one another. But I have it on good authority they are improving.’

Her footsteps returned and settled just behind them once more.

‘As for you two, you have done better than I expected.’ 

They looked at each other, in severe confusion. 

‘You have known me, in love. Your love for the world, your love and forgiveness for humanity, and most of all, your love for each other.’

They looked away from each other. 

‘And all of this protected an innocent child, a beautiful world, and thwarted a whole bunch of my densest bureaucrats.’

Crowley gave a cold laugh. ‘We’re the ineffable plan,’ he groaned in disbelief.

‘Of course you are,’ said God, lovingly. She leaned over him and kissed him on the head, then straightened up again. 

‘For saving the school, so to speak, 100 points to both CuddlePuff and SlitherOff. I think that’s how this works.’

Crowley started to straighten up.

‘Uh uh!’ warned God sharply. ‘We’re not done quite yet, young man.’ Crowley sulked his way back down to the desk.

‘My heart is warmed by your acts of courage, sheer will, and flagrant displays of my favourite form of love, agape,’ she explained. ‘Unfortunately these acts have come with some of the most appalling misbehaviour and outright insubordination I have ever seen.’

They both grimaced. 

‘The learning here appears to be that disobedience is not inherently wrong, therefore.’

‘Ah!’ said Aziraphale happily. 

‘Yes,’ said God, allowing it. ‘As I said, the real rulebook is written in your hearts. And you both discovered it. Your true reward therefore is to be removed from active duty.’

They blinked at one another, still bent over. 

God continued. ‘Behold, I send you out, propagators of love!’

They both stood, believing they’d received permission to go.

‘Not yet!’ The cane whipped through the air in warning and they quickly returned to their positions.

‘I want you both to continue doing what you do best, but as a preemptive warning not to get too carried away with the mischief you both have a weakness for…’

She cracked the cane sharply across Aziraphale’s bottom, then Crowley’s. They both felt a burning sting and yelped loudly.

‘...you ought to bear in mind it will get back to me…’

Another swish and whip across each bottom - a screech from Crowley and a shudder of sobs from Aziraphale.

‘...and if I hear you’ve been particularly naughty in the mismanagement of mortals or too many frivolous miracles…’

A third and final lash landed on the trouser seat of both boys. This time, Crowley sobbed and Aziraphale screeched. 

‘...you will get twelve each and you will be separated for at least a century and forced to do inventory of local insects. I hope that’s clear.’

‘Yes lord,’ they replied together for the last time, between hitching breaths and little sniffs.

‘Up you get,’ said God, returning to her seat and placing the wretched cane on the desk right in front of them. They stood, shifting from foot to foot with discomfort.

‘Don’t let me down,’ she said sternly. 

They nodded and rubbed their bottoms. God smiled slyly.

* * *

There was another faint tinkle and they were standing back in Aziraphale’s bookshop, red faced, rather dazed, and still in their school uniforms. 

Crowley scowled in disgust at his outfit and went to snap his fingers and miracle it away.

‘Wait!’ said Aziraphale. ‘Perhaps we could keep them...’

Crowley raised both eyebrows. ‘What for?’ he asked, nonplussed. But he soon found himself ogling his adorable naughty schoolboy angel. And he noticed the way his angel was looking at _him_.

‘You might have a point,’ he said, trying to stay casual but breaking into a swagger and unfastening his blazer. ‘Upstairs?’

‘Yes!’ squeaked Aziraphale, dashing towards the staircase in sheer delight. 

They tumbled onto the bed, kicking off the shoes, but otherwise remaining fully dressed. They grabbed for each other, rolling from side to side until they settled with Crowley lying on top.

“We’re free,’ breathed Aziraphale, wriggling his smarting bottom into the sheets. Crowley kissed him thoroughly and his angel became breathtakingly pliant underneath him. The demon pinned his wrists down either side of his head, and smirked. He very deliberately grazed their bulging crotches together, the thin grey cotton creating an ideal friction.

‘Oh no,’ intoned Aziraphale. ‘One of the bigger boys has got me. He’s going to use me.’

‘He really is,’ said Crowley breathlessly, settling in for good dry hump, which he adored. Aziraphale arched up to meet the thrusts. It felt deliciously wicked getting off in their school uniforms, at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and the remaining sting in their buttocks was contributing to an increasing dizzying pleasure. They moved steadily for a few minutes before need overtook.

Crowley allowed his full weight to fall on the angel, who gave a filthy moan at the pressure and submitted helplessly to the demon’s chaotic movements. 

Crowley put his whole body into it, flinging himself against Aziraphale as if humping his favourite pillow (which he’d also done a great many times), suddenly quite desperate to come. He must have been crying out, because Aziraphale was murmuring sweetly to him. ‘That’s it, do it, I want you to, dear, wicked boy...’

Crowley saw flashing lights when he came, soaking his crotch and writhing madly. Just as he started to go limp, the angel rolled them so the dopey demon was underneath. Aziraphale immediately started to rut against Crowley’s hip, mirroring the frantic humping for a good half a minute. He looked down at the demon beneath him, lips parted, eyes hooded, still wearing his blazer. He gasped as his hipstook on a life of their own. Crowley gripped him and pulled him in close, and then the angel was shouting and coming in hot spurts that surged right through the fabric of his trousers. 

Aziraphale slumped on top of Crowley, still wriggling a little, enjoying the hazy afterglow and sinful mess. They stayed hot and sticky for a minute or two before coming down properly, and enjoying a giggle. 

The next moment, two completely clean, naked angels were lying in each other’s arms, toes tickling toes, lips kissing lips, and wings folded around each other in a cocoon of pure, and impure, delight.

'So, angel,' said Crowley between kisses. 'What do you want to do tomorrow?'

'You,' replied Aziraphale. 

**Author's Note:**

> So whose fantasy is this? Crowley or Aziraphale's?


End file.
